


Unprofessional

by MelodramaticLobster



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bi Pauling, F/M, Lust, demoman - Freeform, miss pauling - Freeform, sex deprived, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-18 13:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticLobster/pseuds/MelodramaticLobster
Summary: When one hasn’t had touch, let alone sex, for a while, unbidden thoughts can plague the mind when alone with another person. When the person just happens to have the same urges as you, well...
Relationships: Demoman/Miss Pauling (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Unprofessional

It could’ve been from sex deprivation, or perhaps hypersexuality; a slut, as her enemies would put it, before she put a bullet between their eyes. Or perhaps it was just touch she craved. But affection in this day and age (or perhaps in all eras of humanity) touch was something that one can do only when you’re trying to kill someone or you’re having sex with them. All other touch was reserved for close family, or significant others. Things she would never be able to have; at least not when she was working every day of the year. Things she could only fantasize about, like she was doing now, despite herself.

She really wished Demoman hadn’t asked to see her alone. With a group, it might have been fine. But today was one of those days… She could have just been strange. Strange was the very nature of her life.

But in a group, it was less likely for the pit in her navel to burn, for her sex to ache, her mind going wild at what this individual might do if he was willing, if the time was right. It had happened before, not with Demoman, but others, man or woman, it didn’t matter. If they weren’t inherently creepy or downright repulsive, and acknowledged her existence, she could get this rogue response from her body. She hated it.

Demoman continued with his plea, “I really, really need yer help. I can’t do this anymore, and me mum won’t stop making me, even though she has the mansion completely paid off. We’re set for life…”

She sighed, pushing up her glasses. While she could make the case that she herself was overworked, at least the Administrator had her reasons, and worked just as hard at the desk. What Demoman’s mother did, however, was sit at home and demand her son work himself to death for the insanely slim chance he was going to lose his other eye in the future and lose everything. But she couldn’t exactly just tell her to stop. Demoman was a grown man, older than she was, and ultimately their family dynamics were none of her business. 

“And you want us to do what, exactly?” she asked.

“Split up my checks, make it seem like I have all ten jobs when I’m just working here.”

That was reasonable. She tapped her pen to her clipboard, working out the logistics in her head.

“Won’t she notice the drop in pay?”

“Pah, you’re the ones paying me the most. Plus she’s blind. I’ll… I’ll work it out.” 

“Taking advantage of your mother’s blindness, Demo?” Pauling teased. “I thought you’d have more sympathy.”

“Please, I know my mum is a hard woman to cross, but I’m beggin’ ye here. And I know ye work all the time too, like an insane amount.”

“I do.”

“But I can’t take it anymore. I can only do so much for so long.”

Pauling sighed. At least she had the stability of one employer, not necessarily a kind one, she supposed, but one doing important work. Demo, on the other hand, besides being a highly talented (and lucky) demolitions expert, was also forced to scrape the grease out of kitchens, scrub floors and pick up garbage in Teufort. Demo looked ready to go onto his knees to beg. Oh… that probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Okay Demo, I’ll talk to accounting, just give me a list of all your employers credentials and we’ll go about forging checks.”

His eye lit up, warm and hopeful. “Ye’ll really do it?”

“Of course, it's pretty simple now that I think about it… oh!”

Demoman lifted her by her waist and spun her around. “Holy jesus, you saved my life, lass, thank ye. I cannae repay ye.” 

She’d never seen him with such genuine and alive joy in his eye.

He pulled her into a hug, her feet inches above the floor. Before the awkwardness even caught up to her, she was enveloped by his warmth, and the strong scent of hard cider, and stronger musk of masculinity.

Pauling was stunned. At first she had been tense, but it wasn’t long until she melted in his arms. It felt so good; when was the last time she was held? She swallowed. “You’re… uh, welcome, Demo.”

He then realized, perhaps, he was a little too familiar and set her down with a sheepish grin, trying to help flatten the bunching around her shoulders. “Sorry, just, och, I’m so bloody happy right now, I could kiss ye, I could!”

“Really?”

“Aye,” he beamed, his eye twinkling, his mouth pulled into his signature wide grin. She couldn’t help but respond in kind. Demoman really did have lovely eyes, especially like this, crinkled up in the corners, seeing her and being so pleased with her over such a simple favor. It warmed her to the core.

“... then why don’t you?” 

Demoman stared, the joy dissolving into shock, and her stomach plummeted into the earth. 

Maybe… just maybe… no, impossible. She was crazy, why’d she say that? It was so unprofessional it was…

He kissed her. It was light, tentative, as if she was about to shy away, or laugh and say it was just a joke. It ended before she quite processed it began, and now Demo looked as if it was his turn to be the stuttering mess.

She didn’t want that. Every fiber of her body, every nerve ending alight for one more touch. Where he still held her shoulders, it burned. Where his lips had touched, it ached for more.

“Come on,” Pauling murmured. “Like you mean it.”

With that she was swept up in Demo’s arms, pulled against his flak vest, as he kissed her with more passion she could have been prepared for. She closed her eyes, kissing back twice as fierce, electricity running through her body, sparking the smoldering tinder in her navel into a raging inferno. 

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling herself as close to him as possible. Yes, this is what she needed, beyond that she couldn’t think, only feel.

He tasted sweet with a bitter taste of scrumpy, smelled of warm flannel and hints of gun oil. His lips were dry, but so soft and warm, larger than her own, gentle and kissable. Almost like her first girlfriend. They engulfed her mouth at first, then they found their rhythm. 

When they came up for air, Miss Pauling wanted more, needed more. She pressed her body against his, and was met with bliss when he did the same. She ran her hands down his sides as she kissed under his chin, his 5’o clock shadow raspy against her lips. He let her lips explore his throat for a moment, before taking his turn, kissing her ear, nibbling her ear lobe, his warm breath tickling her ear.

She didn’t remember when or how she was backed up against the table, but without hesitation, she hopped up, with just a little help from him. He settled between her legs as he kissed her neck, then collarbone. 

He ran his hands over her thighs. She wanted closer, but the stupid flak vest was in the way. Why was he even wearing it?

Just below the collar, there was a flap hiding a pull tab. She gripped and pulled hard and fast, and the structural tubes holding the pieces together followed, and the pieces just fell off him.

“How’d ye know to do that?” he chuckled, shedding the last few pieces.

“It was needed,” she replied, pushing the rest off her lap. 

“Y’know that's only for emergencies,” he continued, with a smirk.

“Mhmm,” She pulled him by the chest of his boiler suit and kissed him into silence.

Finally, she could feel him. He was deep between her legs, his hips hiking up her skirt. She could feel his arousal, rubbing against her sex. Reality tried to reach her, but at the last moment it was turned away. She needed this, she craved it. She shifted her hips up against him.

He ran his hand down her chest, tracing the line between the slopes of her breasts. She arched at his touch, giving him permission to pull the hem of her shirt from her skirt. She gasped when his warm hand brushed over her stomach.

“Ye alright, doll?”

“Mm, mmhmm.” What were words anymore. Her hands explored his boiler suit, before finding the zipper and pulling it down. The hours of running and wearing a heavy flak vest definitely got him in shape, though scrumpy had given him slight padding. And they were the sexiest abs in the world at the moment. 

He unbuttoned her blouse, splitting apart . She had small breasts, she remembered, with larger than average areolas. She blushed, reluctant to see Demo’s disappointment in her imperfect form.

Instead he made a noise of approval, taking one into his mouth. Everything went blank for a moment, as he suckled and ran his tongue over the nipple, breathing deeply as she moaned, arching into his mouth. Insecurity melted away as he ravished her, ran his hands over her and pulled her close.

He switched to the other, and Pauling could do nothing but hang on, groan, arch into him. He wasn’t sloppy, his focus on her a diamond sharp. There seemed nothing more in the world to him but her body, and to her, his.

She slipped her hand beneath his shirt as he cupped one hand around her breast, rolling her nipple between his forefinger and thumb. 

Pressed his hips deeper into her, grinned into the crook of her neck. 

Her thoughts stuttered to a stop. His bulge was huge, no, massive. She could feel it between her legs, clearly defined, rubbing up against her, seeking entrance through frustrating layers of cloth. A hot ache of longing to take him inside her. There was no choice but to grind against him, to get as close to him as possible. One inherent need.

He must have felt the surge too, for he ran his hands up her thigh under her skirt as he pressed back. He unclipped one nylon, shimmying it down. His fingers danced on her bare inner thigh, from knee to junction. She whimpered, shifting forward, and finally his went to her panties. She shut her eyes, knowing he was about to feel how wet she was. No, wet wasn’t the right word. Soaked. She moved against his fingers as he traced her panties, then cupped her. She panted, throwing her head back. Demo took the opportunity to kiss her throat as he slid one finger in. She gripped him, mind going blank. She fell back against the wall as Demoman worked her.

“Yer bloody beautiful, ye know?”

She couldn’t do anything but nod. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer. He added another, cupping her as his fingers curled upwards, brushing against that amazing spot. She gasped, clenching around his fingers as her glasses slipped down her nose.

He grinned, working her, until she was gasping, breathless, brushing his thumb against her clit until she was bucking and grinding to her own accord. 

“Ye like that, lassie?”

She clenched around him, biting her lip, nails digging into his back. 

“Tavish!” she gasped when he hit a particularly good spot. Demo had a big grin on his face, his eye sparkling.

Pleasured by just pleasuring her, he was getting off just by bringing her to orgasm, by her flushed face, parted lips, the way she clung to him like a rock in a storm.

“Yer so bloody pretty,” he murmured, his voice soft and warm as melted butter.

Even that brought her closer to euphoria, as she tensed, so close, she was teetering on the edge, all she had to do, for once in her life, let go...

But no, she was too afraid, she retracted, not wanting to let herself go on such a primal level. 

“Tavish…” she whispered throatily. “Slow down.” He did, yet she still squirmed at his touch. “Stop stop… I.. I…” 

He paused, just as she said, looking in concern. She caught her breath.

“I’m not hurting ye, am I…?”

“No… no, you were doing it right, very right. Too right. But I want *you*.”

“Ah…” he faltered. “Lassie, I donnae have a condom on me…”

“Don’t worry, you won’t get me pregnant,” she said definitively. If Demo had any doubts, he didn’t voice them. He kissed her, full and deep, as if the last restraint finally snapped. He fumbled with himself, below where she couldn’t see, and something soft and blunt pressed up against her. Her breath caught in her throat; oh god, he felt huge. Much larger than this finger. Much larger than...

Demoman entered her. She was so sensitive, swollen, it was almost painful. A good kind of pain. The best. She cried out, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

Demo froze, “Did I hurt you?”

“No! Keep going!”

Demo was startled back into action, thrusting into her. She panted, clenching around him, moaning into his chest. It’d been too long, he felt so good. His entire body was warm, muscled. She couldn’t get enough of his touch. His breath by her ear, the way he held and covered her whole body. 

He had stretched her full, each stroke hitting her cervix in rhythm. Panting , not taking his time, likely at her behest, not that she hadn’t been clear exactly what she wanted from him, worked her.

She couldn’t contain her voice to her throat. Crying out now, she could only muffle it by biting her lip. He only slowed once to readjust, lifting her hips up, tossing one leg over his shoulder for a deeper angle. The pleasure of their meeting so intense, her lips couldn’t keep her quiet, so the back of her hand would have to do.

He slowed, reaching up to cup her cheek, “I’m ain’t hurting ye, am I?”

She shook her head vehemently, bucking her hips up. “Don’t… don’t stop,” she begged breathlessly. “Please don’t stop again.”

He grinned, happy to pick up the pace, to watch her expression become helplessly pleasured, to listen to the noises she made with each stroke. Her glasses had become crooked, her hair escaping from her bun, lips parted with every pant. 

“C’mere,” he scooped her up off the counter, causing her to yelp, then giggle. Demo so easily hefted her, as if she were light as a feather. She knew ancendontally with the way he could heft an entire claymore with one hand that he was strong, but this hit her in a more visceral way. In the arms of one of the strongest and tallest men of the team, she was completely his. What a delicious feeling.

He held her up to his chest with one arm, still connected with her, as he lowered them to the floor. She brought him into a kiss as he adjusted his balance, one arm still cradling her while one forearm rested on the floor above near her head.

His intention was to go slower this time, no that he had her directly beneath him. It seemed so much more intimate, but Pauling bucked her hips up into him in rhythm, forcing a faster pace, and having a partner so eager…, especially when his name was on her lips, “Tavish…”

Soon enough he was whimpering, groaning, unable to contain himself as his thrusts got sporadic. She had suddenly clenched down tight, he threw his head back, trying to keep pace. He wanted to go longer, he did. She cried out, so loudly, he was sure the others could hear it. She bit down on his bicep, a love bite, drawing all thoughts away from being caught.

Now he was whimpering, “Och lass, I’m gonna… I’m gonna...” He pried his hips away, pulling out, and she whined, wanting him back, suddenly feeling empty as he finished below her. As she looked on, every muscle on his body was tense, standing out clearly defined, as he rubbed himself vigorously. He threw his head back as he came, then hunched over her, panting, face in helpless pleasure. He panted, spent, as he placed hands on either side of her to keep himself from collapsing on top.

She couldn’t get enough of him. Soon after he climaxed, she recaptured him in her legs. He laughed as she pulled him back in. “Gently, lass, I’m sensitive now.”

Oh right, that happened to men after they orgasmed, didn’t it. She rubbed against him as he settled back between her legs, and he winced with a smile, almost pulling away. “What, dinnae believe me?”

“Mmm,” she smirked before kissing him. He was a lot more tense this time, so it ended. She wanted more, she wanted to go again. 

They clung to each other as they recovered, Pauling unable to pry herself from his warm, strong, comfortable body. It didn’t matter he smelled strongly of alcohol, he just smelled like Demo, and sex, and hints of her perfume.

He ran his fingers over her back, occasionally kissing her cheek. 

He had the decency to remain quiet as they recovered. Pauling didn’t think she could form words, much less engage in conversation. 

She rubbed her thighs together experimentally, wincing only slight. She was still, very wet. “Wait, where did you…?”

“On the floor, donnae worry, lass,” Demo murmured, stroking her hair. “Ye almost didnae let me, ye held me so fast.”

“I…” Pauling said sheepishly. “I was enjoying myself too much, I guess.”

“Aye?” he sounded pleased with himself.

“Yeah.” 

He pulled away just enough to capture her lips in a kiss. She was much more timid this time, and now she was starting to register the aches in her body. The tender pain between her legs, the hard floor beneath her, the muscle strain from clenching her legs too hard and too long.

Oh my god, I had sex. Oh my god, I had sex with one of the mercs, I had sex with Demoman.

Reality came crashing upon her, like a tidal wave, washing away any sultry confidence she may have faked in the beginning.

“I uh…” 

“Ye ok?” 

“I’m…” her heart hammered in her chest. Sexual desire and pleasure had clouded her mind, but now she saw everything in clarity. She bit her lip, disentangling herself from him and scooting back.

As Demo looked on, she rearranged her nylons, then skirt, and straightened her blouse, prompting him to tuck himself back in. “Ye sure yer ok?”

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine. That was just... Unexpected.”

He chuckled, a cautious one, “Aye, that’s a way to put it.”

The smile she offered didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah.”

Demoman quickly backed off, sitting up to the side she pulled her skirt hem back down to her knees, effectively pushing him away.

He rubbed the back of his neck as she hopped up and collected her fallen clipboard. “So, I’ll see ye around?”

“Yup.” She kept her eyes to the floor, stress mounting in her shoulders until it hurt. Great, even more aches to deal with.

“I’m sorry if I…”

Pauling waved his apology away, not looking at him. “Its fine, I just… I gotta go.”

She fled through the door, not looking back, clipboard clutched to her chest.

  
  


  
  



End file.
